Alone and Forsaken
by Hopeless Dreamer28
Summary: Here he was, alone, drowning his sorrows in alcohol as guilt and grief slowly consumed him, pulling him further into the darkness. *Reupload*


**A/N**-I originally uploaded this weeks ago but then deleted it and decided to redo it. A HUGE thank you goes to Airbefore for helping me on this.

**Disclaimer**-I do not own Castle

* * *

_Alone and forsaken by fate and by man_  
_Oh, Lord, if you hear me _  
_please hold my hand_  
_Oh, please understand._

_Hank Williams, Sr._

* * *

A roll of thunder echoed through the loft, rain drummed loudly against the window. The only light came from his laptop, opened and untouched on his desk, the cursor flashing on his blank Word document, mocking him. He grabbed the half empty bottle that sat next to it and poured himself another glass, downing it in one burning gulp.

He hadn't left the loft since her funeral. His mother had tried to get him to come with her to the Hamptons. She'd told him it'd be good for him to get away from the city for a while, and he knew she was right but in the end he had decided to stay behind. So here he was, alone,drowning his sorrows in alcohol as guilt and grief slowly consumed him, pulling him further into the darkness.

He stared numbly out the window when he felt a chill run down his spine, felt her presence. He didn't look though, didn't need to.

He poured himself another drink, this time looking over at her. She stood hidden in the shadows, leaning on the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest. A flash of lightening illuminated her for a split second.

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I want to. "

"Then why don't you?"

"You know why."

He didn't say anything just dropped his eyes to the empty glass in his hand.

She pushed off the doorjamb and moved across the room, perched on the edge of his desk.

"It wasn't your fault."

He turned toward her. "How can you even say that? When-when …" The words stuck in his throat, too painful to say because then the nightmare that has been his life for the past week would become real. He rose from his chair, grabbed the bottle and headed toward the living room.

"Castle," she called after him. "Rick, stop."

He froze mid stride and slowly turned toward her. For a brief moment their eyes met. It was too much. Looking at her reminded him of everything that could've been but now, because of him, would never be. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes slipped closed.

He slowly opened them after a moment, but refused to meet hers again. "What do you want from me?"

"You have to stop doing this to yourself. There was no way you could've known it was going to happen,"

He backed away when she took a step forward. "Please just go," he said, his voice wavering as he turned and walked away.

He sank down onto the couch, leaned his head back he let out a long drawn out breath and closed his eyes. Exhaustion swept over him, he wanted nothing more than to just climb into bed and let exhaustion take over. But he ignored his body's call for sleep because he knew what awaited him; his mind replaying that day over and over again on an endless loop. Every painstaking detail, from the way the air smelled of freshly cut grass to how her blood was warm as it seeped between his fingers. To the way she had looked at him, her eyes wide and scared just before she closed them for the last time.

She came and sat down beside him and placed a gentle hand on his knee. Raising his head up he looked down at her hand as silence stretched between them.

"If I had only been a second sooner," he choked out.

"Castle, look at me," she said gently, but he couldn't bring himself to. Because it was all his fault. He may not have pulled that trigger but it was his actions that led to it. "Castle," she said a little more firmly this time. She waited him out; he exhaled after a moment and slowly turned to meet her eyes. "You did everything you could. And now it's time you let it go."

He averted his eyes, knew what she really meant. But he couldn't, not now. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. His eyes caught sight of the crinkled pamphlet lying next to the bottle. Picking it up, his thumb traced along the lines of her picture. He looked back over to her, but she was gone. And he was alone, again, with nothing but his grief and the memories of that day, the day his world came crashing down. He turned back to the pamphlet in his hand, the image blurred behind his tears, and let his eyes slowly travel to the lettering underneath.

_Katherine Houghton Beckett_

_November 17, 1979- May 16, 2011_


End file.
